Bring Me To Life
by BloodyMarry
Summary: Voldemort, regaining some of his soul, is not happy. So he with evil intent, he goes into Harry's dreams. Only to encounter a shock he'll never forget. HarryxVoldemort
1. Chapter 1

**Bring Me To Life**

BloodyMarry

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing of Harry Potter. That much should be obvious.

**Warning! **This chapter contains slightly graphic gore, hence the Horror genre. Beware.

**Chapter One**

**XOXO**

Tom Riddle stared coldly into the eyes of the man that was so eerily similar in looks to his own.

"You were the death of her. And your bastard is the death of you," a bright green light shot out of the end of his yew wand, and hit the man known as Tom Riddle Sr. in the heart.

Without even a second look, the tall handsome young man turned away from the dead muggle family, _his_ dead muggle family. Tom straightened his cloak on his shoulders and made his way to get out of the dark room.

"Pathetic creatures," he muttered casually as he closed the door behind him.

**XOXO**

Crimson eyes flew open with something akin to shock swimming in their ocean depths. The pale, snake-like man sat up in his bed, his black silk night robe falling off his broad shoulders. A weight shifted at his feet and he hissed at his familiar, she moved away from him.

"I dreamt of them, Severus. What is your potion doing to me?" The Dark Lord questioned his voice low and dangerous.

"Unfortunately, with Potter's blood being apart of the potion, it might not just be restoring your power, or your health, but possibly some of your soul. Your humanity," a dark deep voice from the partially lit corner answered.

"Only one good thing comes from your constant monitoring of me. And that's the fact that you answer questions when _I_ want them and not when Dumbledore let's you," there was a silence in the room now, Severus knowing no way to reply to what his Lord had said.

"My Lord..." Severus began, but shut his mouth when Voldemort lifted his hand.

"You will find a way to reverse this... unfortunately unseen affect. Is that clear, Severus?" The dark haired bowed his head, showing his understanding and willingness to serve his Lord.

"Now leave," Voldemort didn't wait to watch as his follower left the room, he laid down on his large sized bed and stared up at the dark ceiling.

"I think I'll pay young Potter a visit this fine night," the words were spoken as if they were a casual suggestions made to oneself about some terribly boring and tasking event.

**XOXO**

Harry felt cold fingers running over his warm forehead, his eyes opened but no on was there and the fingers were gone. Thinking it was just another one of his dreams he closed his eyes and tried to go back to bed, but when he did he felt the soft fingers trailing across his skin. They leaft cold chills where ever on him they happened to touch. This time when he opened his bright green eyes he saw the man he was to either kill or be killed by.

"Voldemort," Harry's voice was full of malice, of hate. He'd never felt so strongly and sure about anything in his life. The older man ignored his anger, and continued his studying of Harry's face or more of what the boy assumed, his scar.

"You're so _brave_, Harry," the man practically hissed as he began his routine mind plays.

"Get away from me," Harry said as he felt his teeth clench and his face heat up.

"To say a name that only two other man aren't afraid to even _think_," he ran the pad of his thumb over Harry's scar, tracing down the jagged edges, moving down then slowly back up again.

"If you'd like, I could call you something else?" Voldemort looked to him inquiringly.

"I could call you, _Tom_," Harry said biting back his fear and smarting off.

"You could, but I might have to cut out that pretty little pink tongue inside your smart mouth," Voldemort said as his red eyes finally moved down to meet Harry's, in a clash of crimson and emerald.

"Oh but then you wouldn't have the pleasure of hearing my final goodbye's when I kill you," the cheery smile on Harry's face only making Voldemort more angry.

"_Boy, you'll learn to hold your tongue," _the pale man said using his parsletongue abilities to intimidate Harry. But the boy only smiled back.

"_I'll only hold my tongue when you've cut it out for me."_

"_Was that a request?" _He answered, Though only slightly shocked by the fact that Harry could speak parsletongue.

"_Not hardly. Now get away from me," _Harry's eyes moved to the door where the knob was twisting as if someone was trying to open it but it was locked.

"_He's here, you'd better leave. He might kill you too," _Harry said, his green eyes wide and close to the point of sheer panic. Voldemort looked to him with what, if he had one, was a raised eyebrow.

"Who can kill me, boy? I'm Lord-"

"Magic doesn't work here. Every night I try to use it to save myself... It never works. He always gets me," Harry's voice had gone oddly calm, though he still looked frightened. It was weird it was almost as if Harry was shutting himself down, and as Voldemort looked deeply into his eyes trying to figure out what all this meant he saw it clear. His thoughts were interrupted when a banging on the door started, shaking the frame on its hinges. Who ever was trying to get in this room must have been quite large.

"Open up, boy!" Harry flinched and turned away from the door with his eyes closed. He seemed to Voldemort, to be more afraid of whoever this boogieman was, than of him. It only served to aggravate him. more so. But not enough to do anything to stop it all.

"It's too late. He's going to do it now," not knowing what else to do Voldemort stood up and moved away from Harry. And as he stepped into the corner the door flew open, with the force exerted in the action the handle was now stuck in the wall.

A large man with a long shot gun in his hands clamored into the room.

"You've done it now, _freak_! I've lost the last of my patience with you!" Harry's mouth opened slightly, getting poised for a silent scream that would always come next, because his Uncle would point the shot gun right at his face. Just like he was doing now. And with only a loud BANG and a jerk of his body Harry was shot. Dead. Blood spattered onto the walls, the bed, and the killer himself. As Voldemort looked down he noticed some on his front as well.

"Good riddance," the fat man said nastily as he gave Harry's dead body one more glance.

But before Voldemort could do anything about it the whale of a man turned and left the room, muttering things under his breath. Shocked beyond belief at what he'd just witnessed Voldemort walked to Harry's bed, he sat himself on the side of Harry's he'd sat on before. One that now wasn't, thankfully, covered in blood.

The red covered man lifted his hands, considering touching the gaping hole in Harry's head. The gushing blood only fascinating him to a small degree. He dropped his hands instead, his dry cracked lips open and an evil sort of laugh escaped him. What he found funny, other than Harry's death at a _muggle's_ hand, was that the shot had been aimed at Harry's lightening bolt scar.

Suddenly Harry's eyes shot open and he sat up in bed.

"Well that was quicker than usual."

**XOXO**

-End Chapter One

**A/N: **I wrote this story a while ago, and only now am I posting it. I haven't had the chance to finish chapter two but it's been started. I know this might seem a tad nasty and a little weird but you'll understand more in time. grins Well I hoped you liked it. I'm not sure if I'll finish it but I have high hopes from my first V/H.

_I hope you decide to review!_

-Bloody


	2. Chapter 2

**Bring Me To Life**

BloodyMarry

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing of Harry Potter. That much should be obvious.

**Warning! **More gore. And some slashy goodness. Not a lot though. Beware.

**Chapter Two**

**XOXO**

"Well that was quicker than usual."

"Do you usually dream of your Uncle...? Shooting you?" Though he had a smirk on his face, his eyes were moving quickly and curiously over Harry's body. The blood, the gore, it all pointed to Harry's death. And even though this was only a nightmare, he still shouldn't be sitting up.

"Not always, sometimes he beats me to death," Harry offered, his odd sense of humor leaking into this conversation. It was just that this was so weird for him, Lord Voldemort was here, in his dream, in a dream where he'd been shot. They didn't usually teach you how to react to these sorts of things in school.

When no reaction from Voldemort came, other than the raising of his "invisible" eyebrow, Harry continued to explain, "Sometimes it's torture, sometimes it's rape. But in the end it's always the same, he always kills me. Always."

"You dream of death, do you wish it to come upon you so desperately? I could help your fascination along, Potter," Voldemort offered with a curl of the side of his mouth. Harry felt something inside him squirm at the look he was getting from his enemy.

"No, I don't. But I've been getting these dreams since I learned to block out yours," Harry gave the bald man a pointed look and then went on, "I'm not sure why I have them, I don't want them for sure. Hell I almost miss visions of you torturing and killing Death Eaters."

"You could re-open the link, Potter," Voldemort didn't even miss a beat. He'd do anything to worm back into his young adversaries mind, he wasn't stupid. When he saw an opening he moved through it.

"You could stop all this death, and pain. You could put your mind at ease and join-" his slow and coaxing voice was cut off.

"I told you already, there's never going to be a me and you. I would never join you," Harry lifted his chin in the air slightly, not so unlike a Malfoy would. There was only silence after this and Harry sighed, he moved his head around looking at his room. He was glad it wasn't real or else he'd have a lot of cleaning to do in the morning. He shrugged, but so long as he was here, he did feel the urge to clean some of himself off.

"You have a hanky?" Harry asked the older wizard just looked at Harry as if he'd asked him if he'd like to join him in a nice roll around in the mud playing piggies.

"Didn't figure," Harry shrugged his shoulders once again and turned back to Voldemort, his inspection of the room totally done.

"It happens..." Harry started, "almost exactly like that every night, I lay awake waiting for him and then I go to sleep, but he comes the moment I slip away. He'll twist the handle...call out to me, bang on the door before it swings open. You know the handle always gets stuck in the wall after, I'm not sure why... But it does.

"After that... the way he kills me changes almost every time. Sometimes I fight back, other times I just take it until I die, and no matter what magic doesn't ever work. Shame. I always think up good ways to get him back, too!" Harry said it as if talking about any other ordinary, daily event. Though the last with a sort of pout.

"I suppose I'm not usually here, though?" Voldemort asked, mildly amused by the small boy, who face seemed to be drenched to the core in blood. A hiss in his mind said the blood probably didn't taste so bad. Maybe even delicious. He smirked.

"No, this was your first appearance. That must be the reason I didn't totally die, and I'm here talking to you..." the tip of Harry's tongue slipped out of his mouth, like he was thinking about something so hard it just seemed to happen.

"Or maybe I did die and I just sort of got revived? I don't know... maybe I'm a...zombie! Which would be cool, granted not so much on the dead part... and I don't really want to eat your brains."

"Then you aren't a Zombie, are you then," Harry's bottom lip stuck out a bit in his pout, he sat back against his headboard and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Damn."

"...So when does this end?" Voldemort asked looking the room up and down curiously, trying no to look at Harry and not to make it too obvious that he didn't want to.

"Whenever you leave, I guess. I usually wake up right after I'm killed..." Harry drifted off looking up at Voldemort's pale face and glowing red eyes.

"Then I'm leaving," he moved to get up when Harry's hand shot out to grab hold of his wrist.

"But you never cut out my tongue for me," Harry said in a childish voice, opening his mouth and sticking out his pink tongue.

Voldemort smirked and leaned forward, his hand moved to the side of Harry's face letting his fingers trail in the blood. His eyes held a strangely bright glint in them and before Harry could think anything else about it, he felt Voldemort's tongue slip out of his mouth and lick his tongue.

"I'll get it later, I promise," Harry's tongue was back safe and sound, locked behind his clamped shut lips. The next thing he knew it Voldemort was standing up, but before leaving, Harry saw his long tongue slip out and lick the four blood stained fingers. In front of Harry's eyes the older wizard shimmered out of his view, and Harry's dream altogether.

**XOXO**

When Harry woke up from his _nightmare_ he sat up in his bed only slightly worried about the fact that he'd dreamt about Voldemort. Especially about, well what he'd done with his tongue, and licking up his own blood. He felt a sort of chill go through his body, cooling down the heat that pulsed through his veins.

He sat up and wiped a cold sweat from his face, thankful now that there wasn't a hole there anymore. He moved himself out of his bed, not wanting to dwell on this any longer than he had to. He needed to get breakfast ready anyways.

As he dressed himself he tried not to think about all the blood, his death. It never did anything for him, it just made it that much harder for him to look at his Uncle the next day. The shirt he lifted over his head was one he'd had for years. One Dudley had passed on to him when he was only a kid, what was worse for him was that it fit like a glove.

Though slightly tight around the shoulders and chest. And other than the fact that the dark black shirt was fading and had holes in it, it was nice and comfortable. Something he'd had for a long time, that for some reason seemed to in a way, comfort him.

Setting the table only a short while later Harry realized that even though he had a long works day ahead of him, soon it would be over and soon it would be night again. And he would dream. A selfish part of his brain couldn't help but think he wanted Voldemort there. And his stomach turned.

Skiving on breakfast he took his list of things he needed to do for the day and set off to doing the inside work first. Vacuuming, dusting, mopping, sweeping, cleaning the bathrooms and such. All things mindless enough to keep him from thinking about what he'd dreamt of.

When Harry passed his cupboard he sent it a longing look, he wanted nothing more than to reach in there pull out his wand and curse the living hell out of someone or something. Mostly curse himself though, for thinking some of the things he'd though about Voldemort. Things that had made his breath catch or his heart beat just a little bit faster, that made his brain fog up as the blood collected there moved somewhere else.

He felt his fist hit the wall before he realized what he was doing.

**XOXO**

"Severus," Voldemort called from high on his throne like dais, his snake Nagini curled around his legs and waist.

"My Lord," the man bowed low to him.

"I want more potion, my body will heal faster. You'll make it, I want it done," when the potion's master hadn't moved yet his eyes flashed.

"Now," his voice was commanding, cold and harsh. Pain was most promised in every syllable.

Severus felt himself move to get up but his feet paused and his body twisted back a ways to look at Voldemort.

"Faster, my Lord? You know this potion well, sir. And you know what would be needed for an acceleration in speed," Severus said knowing that even if he were to be cursed for this disrespect, he had to risk it.

"I do."

"More of Potter's blood," Severus confirmed. And Voldemort nodded his head.

"I know. And we'll have it."

"But-"

"I will get him, Severus. I will bring him to you and you will have all the blood you need," as the wheels in his twisted mind began to turn Severus could practically feel his skin begin to crawl. He did not envy Potter right now. In fact he never had.

**XOXO**

**A/N: **The second one done! I hope you all like it! Thanks so much for all your great reviews! I loved them! -sigh- You guys are the best! The next chapter, I think should be a real treat. I can't wait to write it! I might not update until Thursday but I will try and get a couple chapters out before I go to the beach Saturday. I'll be back Sunday so no big deal, I can update Monday again. But I at least wanted you all to know!

_I hope you decide to review!_

-Bloody


	3. Chapter 3

**Bring Me To Life**

BloodyMarry

Chapter Three

**XOXO**

Harry had finished his chores, he was finally done for the day. The only downside was that he'd have to sleep soon. His green eyes swiveled to the digital clock sitting on his nightstand, he groaned. It was already one, if he stayed up much later he would get hardly any sleep and he'd have to work on that little sleep.

He had hardly gotten sleep at all in the past two weeks, he hadn't gotten one visit from Voldemort, which he was thankful for. But his dreams had remained the same, though they were less and less frequent for some reason, not that he minded at all.

But he knew that because they were getting to be less and less that the next ones would be the worst he had. They had to be, it was only logical, right? He almost physically shuddered at the thought, he hated to sleep now.

If he went to sleep now, he'd dream, he'd be killed. Or worse. Voldemort would be there. He'd be there to do those things…Again. And Harry didn't think that he'd be in good mental health if that happened.

So he refused sleep.

It was only what he thought to be twenty minutes later when it became too much, the silence, the darkness and boredom set it. And he was fast asleep.

Harry's eyes snapped open though when he heard it, the twisting of his door knob, Harry moved in his bed, now wide awake. He pushed himself back until he reached his head board, he closed his eyes when the twisting became louder.

And then it stopped.

Harry didn't dare to open his eyes though, he kept them shut, waiting. The banging would start soon. But when it didn't Harry forced himself to open his eyes. Maybe Vernon wasn't coming tonight? And then the handle moved, and with a creek the door opened.

He couldn't close his eyes know, it seemed an almost impossible task. He looked in the shadows, but his Uncle wouldn't come into his room. It was like he knew this would torture Harry, frighten him. He was right.

Harry could hear his blood pumping loudly, it was like a pounding heartbeat in his ears. His eyes began to water from the small breeze coming in through his open window, since he refused to blink. He couldn't force himself to, no matter how much he wanted to. He didn't want to see the man who was going to kill him, but he would.

Harry audibly gasped as the dead body of his Uncle fell to the floor, what in the world was going on? Harry felt his eyes blink and the pain in his eyes subsided, he crawled to the end of his bed and almost fell back on his butt when a man appeared in front of him as if from nowhere.

He was cloaked and tall, his long and sturdy arm reached out and he pulled Harry out of his bed, Harry tried to struggle against the mans grip, but to no avail he was far too small. The broad chest he was pressed against left Harry hardly any room to move at all, the man was practically crushing Harry in his grip.

"Who are you?" Harry said, more than clearly shaking in this mans arms. When he didn't reply Harry hissed and struggled to move away from him, but it was no use, he was trapped.

"We're leaving," the man's voice was oddly familiar, but Harry couldn't place it and he didn't try hard as they began to move out of the room, the entire way Harry's feet were dragging on the carpet. But he stopped and almost lifted his feet when he saw his Uncle on the floor at the bedroom's entrance.

Something was off though, something was so wrong. Harry's entire being felt like it was being crushed, and not just by this man's grip anymore. This wasn't a dream. The detail was far more accurate, and the blood seeping into the carpet was much more real. Harry felt chills run over his skin, and very real and terrifying horror overwhelm him.

His hands pushed hard against the man, and caught slightly off guard by the sudden resistance Harry was able to get enough space between their bodies that he slipped out of the man's hold. He ran out the door and he got as far as the top of the steps when the man grabbed onto his wrist, Harry yanked and lost his balance, so that he fell down the stairs.

He screamed trying to get someone to come to his aid, but when no one came and he'd reached the bottom of the stairs he looked up in time to see the hooded figure reach where he huddled at the bottom of the steps and stretch out his arms to pick him up.

Harry screamed again and jabbed his fist up hitting the man in the face and forcing his feet to hit the last step and he fell back with a shout. Harry scrambled to his feet, only to fall on his face as the man's strong hand wrapped around his ankle.

There was even more struggle when the man moved quickly enough to force Harry on his back and pin him. Harry couldn't move his hands, and in his panic he didn't even think to kick, "Let me go!" Harry screamed, the man jerked as Harry bucked against him, and the hood covering his face fell.

Harry's eyes went wide, and he froze at what he saw. It was Voldemort, but not a Voldemort he'd ever seen before. He looked like Tom Riddle, only older. Yet his face seemed warped, his nose was reforming, it pushing through the flat surface of the man's face to slowly become a real nose again. And his eyes were practically lid-less as they grew back out and into a regular shape once again.

His cheeks were hollow and the bone missing was once again growing back in place. His lips, at them Harry felt a turn in his stomach, they were scabbed and bleeding in small places as they grew back and his mouth was stretched to form around a full set of new teeth.

His jaw had totally reformed, and he now had a chin, but not one that was at all in proportion with the rest of his face, giving off a grotesque look. The sallow and sickly skin of his face was stretched taunt over the bones in his face. The bone re-growth must've been faster than his skin could take all at one.

Harry felt sick, he was so grotesque and deformed it was far worse than the face he'd been given at his "rebirth" during the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

"Isn't it revolting, Harry?" the man hissed angrily as he leaned in closer to Harry to rub the side of his face against the once again struggling boy's.

"Leave me alone!" Harry shouted in terror, as the man's tongue slipped out of his mouth to leave a wet trail on the side of Harry's face.

"Look what you're blood is doing to me, Harry. Look!" he shouted making Harry's ear ring, as he lifted and once again slammed the boy against the floor, letting Harry's head bounce of the hard carpet. His grip on Harry's wrist was hard enough that Harry knew he would bruise, the man's angry and terrifying face came back into Harry's view. Harry finally through black spots in his vision, noticed the man's eyes. They looked human, except for the blood-tinted hue to them. They were intoxicatingly hideous as they weren't just the iris that were red, the red seeped like blood, throughout the entire eye and only some white was visible through it.

Harry couldn't take it anymore, he didn't want to look at this…this _thing _anymore, he couldn't stand it. His knee jerked up and he felt it connect with Voldemort's groin, the man jerked and let Harry lose and it was just enough to where Harry could push against his chest once again and run.

Harry didn't even look back as he ran down the hallway past his old cupboard and into the kitchen, he looked back for a moment to see if he'd been followed when he suddenly hit something and once again face planted. Only this time as he fell he hit tiles, and with the force of it he felt something in his nose crunch and blood splatter on his face and onto the floor.

He cursed and looked to see what he'd tripped over when he saw the body of his dead cousin lying with chocolate cake thrown all about his dead and bleeding body. He'd gone for a late night snack, like he always did because of his diet, and he'd been killed for it. Harry felt a thrill of fresh fear and horror sweep through him, and he forced himself up, so that now his back was pressed against the wall behind him. With wide eyes he took in the corpse of his dead cousin.

"He screamed the loudest," Harry's head snapped up and he saw Voldemort standing at the open door, Harry shook his head and forced himself to stand up once again. He reached for the door handle when Voldemort called his name.

"But you haven't seen my finest work, Harry. Do you really want to leave now?" Harry didn't move, all he wanted was to leave.

"Your poor Aunt needs your help, Harry," Harry's hand stilled on the door handle. He felt his eyes sting, but he blinked away any tears that tried to leave him. He turned and gave Voldemort his best glare.

"You're lying, my Aunt isn't home, she went to visit-"

"She came home early, I made sure of it. Come, Harry, come see your Aunt Petunia. She's a truly lovely sight," Harry felt his head shake once again. Voldemort was lying. He had to be.

Voldemort took a few steps, but not toward Harry, and he moved into the living room not even bothering to watch Harry.

He couldn't help himself. What if she was here? What if Voldemort was torturing her, and he just walked out leaving her to die? He would never be able to live with himself. Harry moved to the counter and he snatched up a few knives, slipping two into his back pocket and holding onto one other more dangerous one, he didn't even notice the missing ones.

He moved slowly, still apprehensive, to where Voldemort stood at the living room entrance.

He dropped the knife in his hand at the sight before him.

He ran to his Aunt, as he called her name, but she didn't reply. Her head hung limply against her shoulder, her hands were pinned to the wall with her finest cooking knives while her feet were pinned with some of the larger and longer ones onto the newly installed hardwood floor that she loved so much.

"What did you do?!" Harry screamed, though he didn't even bother to look at the man as he reached up to grip the handle of one of the knives. Petunia screamed as he moved it.

"Stop!" Harry let go of the knife as if he'd been burned and he looked at her face, it was covered in the spatter of her own blood and it had dried tear tracks with running mascara all over it.

"But I need to get you lose," she shook her head, but Harry ignored her. He moved to the floor and whispered a 'Sorry,' as he yanked the one from her foot without thought or much hesitation, he had to or he wouldn't be able to do this. He may not have liked this woman very much, but the fresh blood pooling on the floor was mostly the same blood running through his veins, they were family and he couldn't let this happen to her. He had to save her.

He did the same to the other foot ignoring her screams, and cries for him to stop. He couldn't let her die like this, he had to help her.

"It's no use, Harry, she's going to die," Harry shook his head at the man's laughing tone and he continued with his work.

Voldemort began to laugh, and Harry screamed at him to be quiet as he moved to stop his Aunts struggling, he needed to free her hands now.

"Stop! Stop, you're hurting me!" She screamed as fresh tears coursed down her face. Harry didn't notice the tears falling down his face as he tried to still her.

"I've got to save you!" Harry insisted as he lifted fingers that on the count of three pulled the knife from her right hand. She screamed and went limp against the wall letting the other knife cut further up her hand. Harry cursed and as he yanked the final knife out and she fell onto him, he held her as best he could but he was far too small. He immediately turned to move her to the couch.

"Oh brave, brave, Harry. Congratulations," Voldemort mocked, as Harry struggled to move with his Aunt in his arms, "This must just hurt," a tight and cruel smile stretched over Voldemort's face, he lifted a wand and pointed it at Harry's Aunt.

"Let's spare her any further pain, shall we? It is what you want, Harry. We must save her, Harry," Harry screamed at the monster to be quiet, to stop using his name, it was making him sick. But he couldn't deny that he wanted to help his Aunt, just not in the way that Voldemort wanted.

"Don't you touch her!" he shouted.

"Harry…I'm sorry," his Aunt said hardly above a whisper as she continued to lean heavily against her nephew going in and out of consciousness now. Harry felt his heart constrict in pain at her words, she was in so much pain.

"Don't worry, Harry, I won't," he didn't even bother to speak the curse, a bright green light shot out of the end of an oddly familiar looking wand and hit his Aunt in her back. Harry screamed as her body jerked in his grip, he lost his hold on her and she fell to the floor in a dead heap.

Harry didn't bother to watch her hit the ground, he just ran at Voldemort, with the newly drawn knife in hand. He tackled the man to the ground and lifted the knife just above Voldemort's heart.

Harry's hand stilled when he saw the wand pointed at his neck. It wasn't Voldemort's wand, but his own. He grit his teeth and momentarily closed his eyes. Voldemort had killed his Aunt, and probably the rest of his family with his own wand. Harry pressed the knife further into Voldemort, and it broke robes, it was now pressing against skin.

"You bastard," Harry hissed.

"Strong words for such a weak boy," Voldemort said with laughter clear in his voice, and it was the last thing Harry heard before his body jerked backwards and all he saw was black.

**XOXO**

**A/N: **I haven't uploaded a new chapter in a long time, so I decided that since I was updating all my other stories that I would do a chapter for this one too. I hope everyone liked it. Thank the _Saw _movies for the ick-factor in his chapter. Well really all of them have been quite nasty, haven't they? So never mind.

_I hope you decide to review!_

-Bloody


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